


nyc streets

by a_paper_crane



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 7/11, And I mean slow, Angst, Emotional, Fluff, Homeless AU, Homophobia, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Poverty, Runaway AU, Slow Updates, Sort Of, Theft, Virgil is anxious, also theyre in nyc for the sake of plot, im kind of making it up as i go along, its just a bad time for everyone, ive gone like a month without updating before, possible mentions of murder later, probably child abuse later on, remus is an alcoholic, roman and remus arent related, roman got kicked out, roman is gay and stupid, slurpees, sorry - Freeform, tagging is hard, this one has a plot, virgil and roman are teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-05 20:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_paper_crane/pseuds/a_paper_crane
Summary: “My name’s Virgil,”  the boy said.  “And I, uh, I know what you’re going through.”For the first time, Roman looked him in the eyes.  He was thinner than Roman thought.  The black-and-purple hoodie hung off his shoulders, and his cheeks seemed sunken in.  There were dark bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in weeks.  Virgil looked profoundly exhausted.“I’m Roman.”aka roman got kicked out and virgil does his best to help





	1. 7/11

**Author's Note:**

> im also on tumblr (a-paper-crane) (i dont do much there), twitter (yourlocalmess), and insta (e.hammdog)

Tears blurred Roman’s vision as he stumbled across the cracked sidewalk. He wasn’t sure why he was crying, if it was the shock or the bitterness or the sadness or a brutal combination of the three. He had expected a bad reaction, but being kicked out was simply a worst case scenario. His mind spun, but the only coherent thought he could come up with was “what kind of monsters throw out their 16 year old kid for being gay?” And then he remembered all the hotlines and shelters for homeless gay kids and decided that monsters weren’t all that uncommon.

Roman’s grandparents were even more homophobic than his mother and father, so moving in with them was out of the question. His only aunt lived in California, and while she would take him in, he wasn’t about to walk across the country and he didn’t have the money for a plane ticket. He had no older siblings or cousins that lived near him. He had a friend, but she had four siblings and next to no money, and even if they’d let him stay, he didn’t want to make life even harder for them. For a moment he considered finding a shelter, but quickly decided that a scrawny gay theatre kid wouldn’t last long. Roman was out of options.

It was colder than normal. Roman pulled his ratty old jacket tighter around his shaking shoulders, hoping it would do something against the wind. It didn’t. He spotted a 7/11 down the road and figured it was as good as any other place to stock up on supplies. Twinkies are supposed to last forever, right?

He threw open the door, keeping his head down in hopes that it would hide the still-flowing tears. His original goal was to gather as much food as he could with as little money as possible, but the slurpee machine called to him. He was just thrown to the NYC streets, surely one little treat couldn’t hurt him. Roman went to work trying to pile every flavor he could into one small cup. He had at least a hundred dollars, but he wanted to save as much as possible. Spending it all on slurpees didn’t seem like a very wise decision.

Roman was so focused on creating his slurpee masterpiece that he didn’t notice the boy in the patchwork hoodie until he said something.

“You good there, buddy?”

Doing his best to be discreet, Roman wiped at his face. “Yeah, I’m fine.” His breath caught in his throat. He cursed his emotions for destroying his cool exterior.

“Bullshit.” The boy seemed to inhale half his blue raspberry slurpee in one sip. His expression remained unchanged.

Roman hesitated for a moment. He didn’t know this kid. He might be a massive jerk. But he could also be a great person, and Roman needed sympathy. Worst case scenario, the kid beat him up, right? 

“I just got kicked out.” He couldn’t look at him, but out of the corner of his eye, Roman swore he saw the boy soften. 

“That’s rough.” His voice seemed to be a bit quieter. “Got anywhere to stay?” Roman shook his head, knowing that another word spoken would end with more tears. The boy took another sip, then frowned. “Yikes.”

Roman snickered. “Yeah. Yikes,” he whispered. He started to break down again. The taste of salt found its way back onto his lips. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes. “Sorry,” he croaked, “sorry.”

The patchwork hoodie moved a bit closer to Roman, as if he wanted to help but didn’t know how. Roman hid his face in his hands. “Just… just give me a second, I’ll-” his breath caught in his throat “-I’ll be alright.”

The boy sat his slurpee down on the counter next to him and put his hands on Roman’s shoulders. “Don’t apologize for something you can’t control. This isn’t your fault, okay?” Roman nodded, but the boy wasn’t satisfied. “Okay?”

“Okay. Yeah. It’s not my fault.”

The boy dropped his arms. “Good.” He picked up the slurpee again and started to chew on the straw. Roman sucked in a shaky breath and wiped at his eyes again.

“Who are you?” Roman asked. “Like, I appreciate your mini therapy session and all, but I don’t know you.”

“My name’s Virgil,” the boy said. “And I, uh, I know what you’re going through.”

For the first time, Roman looked him in the eyes. He was thinner than Roman thought. The black-and-purple hoodie hung off his shoulders, and his cheeks seemed sunken in. There were dark bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Virgil looked profoundly exhausted.

“I’m Roman.” 

Virgil gave a small smile. “Nice to meet you, Roman.”

“You too, Virgil.”

“So,” Virgil began, “you said you don’t have anywhere to stay?”

“I don’t, no.” Roman scratched at the back of his neck.

“Well, neither do I.” Virgil’s voice was soft and slow, and Roman decided it was something he didn’t want to explain. “But I know some people that could teach you how to, y’know, not die.”

Roman smiled weakly. “Are you pawning me off on your friends?”

“I live with them too, dumbass. They’re the reason I’m still alive.” Virgil’s goofy grin betrayed his scolding tone.

Now serious, Roman stared down at Virgil. “How can I repay you? You’re literally saving my life and I haven’t done anything for you.” 

“Buy me another slurpee and I will be forever in your debt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have i ever been homeless? no. is this represented incorrectly? probably. do i care? yes, very much. do i know how to fix it? no.


	2. rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright.” Virgil came to a halt, spinning on his heel to face Roman. 
> 
> “...okay?” Roman stared down at Virgil, confused.
> 
> “I gotta do this now, because they’re gonna be all over me for being out late and bringing a mysterious boy with me. We’ve got a few rules.” Roman’s mind raced. Rules? Was he about to join a gang? Would there be blood sacrifices? Murder?

Roman and Virgil walked in a comfortable silence, save for Virgil’s obnoxious slurping. He always managed to take the loudest gulps when Roman’s thoughts wandered back to his parents or situation, making it impossible for him to sulk. It disappointed him. Roman enjoyed sulking; in a strange way, it cleared his mind. As he started to ponder whether this was actually the best idea, Virgil seemed to be doing his best to burst his eardrums.

“Could you… not?” Roman stopped walking and threw his hands over his ears. Virgil, a smirk plastered across his face, took the opportunity to inhale three-quarters of the remaining slurpee.

“Not what?” he teased. 

“Not act like you’re trying to drink a hurricane.” Virgil chuckled, sucked down the rest, and stuck his neon-blue tongue out at Roman. 

They walked for a while, the alleys around them growing darker and Virgil growing visibly more anxious. He tugged at his hood, fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket, picked at his lips, glanced around every corner. Roman hadn’t known Virgil for long, but his mannerisms made his thoughts clear: he didn’t like this part of the city. He stepped a bit closer, hoping Virgil was one of those people who was calmed down by physical contact.

It seemed Virgil was the opposite. “Don’t.” His voice came out as a half-whisper, half-hiss. Roman took a step back, then another for good measure. Virgil groaned quietly. “I get that you’re trying to help, I really do, it’s just that in this area…” He trailed off, but Roman got the message. It was New York City, but there were monsters everywhere. 

“Your friends aren’t, um, unaccepting, I hope?”

“Oh, god, no,” Virgil said. “Nicest people around. I wouldn’t be around them if they weren’t supportive.” 

“Good.” Roman smiled softly. Supportive. He hadn’t had anyone support him since he was a kid.

“The corner’s right up here. We stick around this area and few spots in Central Park that the rangers don’t check. The Park tends to fill up pretty quick though, so we’re here most nights.”

Corner. Park. The sudden overwhelming reality of the situation made Roman feel like he was a rat caught on the subway tracks.

“Oh yeah,” Virgil interjected, “and on rainy nights we sleep in subway stations. You gotta watch for rats, though.”

Great. Just amazing.

“Alright.” Virgil came to a halt, spinning on his heel to face Roman. 

“...okay?” Roman stared down at Virgil, confused.

“I gotta do this now, because they’re gonna be all over me for being out late and bringing a mysterious boy with me. We’ve got a few rules.” Roman’s mind raced. Rules? Was he about to join a gang? Would there be blood sacrifices? Murder?

“Rule 1: We don’t want your sob story. Don’t wax poetic about your dead dog or whatever. It’s in the past. We’re all here, on the streets. Everyone’s got one, not everybody needs to hear it.” Roman felt his shoulders relax. Maybe this wasn’t a gang.

“Rule 2: Don’t press for information you don’t need.” Is this a gang or not, Roman wanted to ask, but he didn’t, because if it was Virgil would probably murder him on the spot. Virgil continued, “There’s stuff you don’t want to hear. Don’t ask, and we won’t tell you.”

“Rule 3: We’re here for each other’s protection, not friendship. I know I’ve been nice and all, but they won’t be as kind as me. Well, except for Patton, but he doesn’t count. We’re trying to make sure nobody else gets killed in return for us not getting killed. So, y’know, watch out for the others and they’ll watch out for you.” Roman’s “Is This A Gang” scales were tipping. What kind of cult shit was this?

“Rule 4: Don’t steal from the others. This seems like a no-brainer, but there’s been issues in the past.” Finally, Roman thought. Something normal.

“And finally, Rule 5: Think of yourself first, but everyone else immediately after. Don’t get yourself killed, but if you win the lottery, maybe help us out a bit. Got it?”

“I think so.” Roman hesitated. “Don’t be sappy or an asshole.”

“Yeah, you’ve got the gist. Let’s go.” Virgil turned away and made a sharp left. The alley he had chosen was darker than the rest, leaving Roman squinting to see the patchwork jacket a few feet in front of him. He picked at the holes in his own coat, wondering if he could get Virgil to fix it for him.

He was so distracted that he almost didn’t notice Virgil come to an abrupt stop ahead of him.

“Hey,” Virgil said.

“Where have you been?”

“I was so worried!”

“Who’s that?”

“Ah, so you finally found yourself a man.”

The four voices rang out at once, startling Roman. He thought he saw Virgil smile in the dark.

“No, guys, chill out. This is Roman. He got kicked out, and he bought me a slurpee.” Virgil’s silhouette shrugged. Two people rose to greet him, while the other pair stayed sprawled out on the ground.

“Hello. My name is Logan,” the first said, “and this is-”

“Patton!” The second was shouting, a sharp contrast to Logan’s reserved demeanor. “You can call me Dad. But only if you want! You must have a messy relationship with your parents, so I understand if you don’t want to.” Roman could see Virgil facepalming next to him.

“That’s alright. Patton works fine for me.” Roman smiled, hoping Patton wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

“And this is Remus and Deceit.” Virgil pointed to the two tired-looking figures on the pavement.

“Howdy.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“It must be past midnight,” Logan announced. “We’ve all met Virgil’s friend. We need sleep. Let’s all sit down.” Logan, Patton, and Virgil all collapsed in a heap with Remus and Deceit. Roman stayed standing.

“What, is the prince too good to sit on the ground?” Virgil joked. “Would His Majesty like some dumpster cardboard?” Roman snorted, but sat down next to Virgil. He was freezing, but didn’t want to cross any boundaries and stayed a safe distance away.

“I’m not gonna bite you.” The words were a whisper, but Roman still heard them over the noises of the city. He scooted close enough that he could drop his head onto Virgil’s shoulder. They sat like that for a while, not saying anything, just doing their best to stay warm

“You’re shivering,” Virgil noticed. 

“I’m not used to sleeping outside.”

Without a word, Virgil slid his jacket off and draped it over the two of them, then slipped his arm around Roman’s shoulder.

Against all odds, Roman slept like he was comatose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go here we go here we go. this was kinda just an infodump but we gotta do that sometimes. next update will be sunday at the earliest.


	3. Goodwill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re gonna go steal from Goodwill.”
> 
> “We can’t steal from Goodwill! They’re a charity!” Roman stomped his foot. Stealing from a corporation was one thing, but stealing from a charity was another.
> 
> “That’s why we’re doing it. You’ve gotta learn to break some rules if you wanna survive.”

Roman woke up to a pain in the neck, both figuratively and literally. His neck was sore from leaning on Virgil, and one of Virgil’s friends — Remus, he thought — was shrieking at the top of his lungs. He wasn’t saying anything, just screaming. Virgil stirred, then stood up.

“There’s your alarm.” He reached down to pull Roman up from the ground. 

“Is this a daily occurrence?” 

Virgil sighed. “Yep. You won’t get used to it, trust me.” 

“Epic.” Roman glanced around, then at Remus, who was now sitting on top of the man Virgil had called Deceit. “So, what do you guys do all day?”

“Depends,” Virgil began. “We aren’t always together, but if you can find Patton, Logan isn’t far away.” He pointed at the pair, still intertwined and asleep despite Remus’s wakeup call. “They spend most of their time at the library.” He shuffled forward, beckoning for Roman to follow. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “Dee never tells us what he’s doing, but if you’re out during the day you can sometimes spot him in big crowds. He always comes back with expensive stuff, so we assume he’s stealing.” Virgil took a deep breath, then continued. “And Remus drinks. That’s why he’s so… Remus.”

Roman nodded. “And you?”

“I do a lot. I hang around with Logan and Patton sometimes, I spend more time than I probably should stealing, every now and then I stay at the corner to keep an eye on Remus, I play the guitar in the park for change. It varies from day to day.” Hearing something he could relate to, Roman smiled.

“You play guitar?”

“Not today, I don’t. I’ve gotta break you in. We’re gonna go steal from Goodwill.”

“We can’t steal from Goodwill! They’re a charity!” Roman stomped his foot. Stealing from a corporation was one thing, but stealing from a charity was another.

“That’s why we’re doing it. You’ve gotta learn to break some rules if you wanna survive.”

“I’d rather the Salvation Army — they’ve done some shitty stuff.” Virgil’s dry laugh seemed to overpower the sounds of the city around them.

“I’m not going to disagree with you, but looking at you I can tell you’ve never even stolen from your mom’s purse-” Roman squawked, indignant “-and I don’t want you getting arrested your first day on the streets. We’re doing something easy first.”

“How do you know Goodwill’s easy?” Roman countered. “They’ve got cameras.”

“Let’s see, they don’t monitor dressing rooms, there are no security devices, I’ve never seen more than three workers in one store, the racks are packed with clothes so you can’t see through them, I could go on. Goodwill is easy.” Virgil stared at Roman, eyebrows raised.

Roman was silent for the rest of the walk.

By the time they reached Goodwill, Roman’s stomach was growling. He hadn’t eaten since his slurpee the night before, and that hardly counted as food. Despite how early he had to get up, Roman always made sure he had breakfast, and lunch and dinner were forced upon him by parents and friends. Not eating for extended periods of time was uncomfortable.

“When do we have dinner?” Roman pulled an oversized hawaiian shirt off a rack. “I’m starving.”

“There’s a couple of churches around here that do soup kitchens every night. The food isn’t great, but it’s food. Anything else, you buy, steal, or dumpster dive. We don’t spend much on food ‘cause Logan’s saving for a cheap apartment.” Virgil smirked and lifted up a hot pink crop top.

“Rawr XD,” Roman read.

“I think you’d look great in this.”

“Shut up, you emo nightmare.”

“Excuse me, this is very clearly scene and not emo. Get your pop culture right.” Roman couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic. “For real though, you need a jacket. That holey disaster isn’t going to do anything once winter hits.” Virgil ventured over to the coat section, Roman at his heels. 

“What do you have in mind?”

“Something heavier, but not too heavy. A thick hoodie or something.” He trailed his fingers along the endless layers of clothing.

“Like this?” Roman pulled a red jacket off the rack. It was fur lined, but broken in. Warm, but not hot.

“That works. Come on, this is the fun part.”

Virgil led him to the dressing rooms. After checking the other stalls, he yanked Roman into the last one. It was a tight squeeze, with Virgil sitting cross-legged on the single chair and Roman pressed against the wall. 

“Give it to me,” Virgil whispered. He whipped a switchblade out of his pocket.

“Note to self,” Roman mumbled, “don’t make Virgil mad.” Virgil stifled a laugh. 

“I don’t use it on people. It’s a tool.”

“You’re a tool.” 

“Disrespect me again and I’ll throw you out of this family.” He cut the tag off the hoodie with unnecessary force.

Roman gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

“Put this on.” Virgil threw the now-tagless hoodie at Roman, who dropped it on the floor. He shrugged it on and stared at the other boy. 

“So now we just… leave?” 

“Yeah, but hang on.” Virgil mussed his own hair, then reached up to run his hands through Roman’s. “Hold your breath for a second.” Though confused, Roman did as he was told.

After Virgil let him breathe again, he asked, “why?”

“We want it to look like we were making out and not stealing stuff. Holding your breath makes your face go red. Now, let’s go.” He plastered a fake, goofy grin on his face and swung the door open. Roman grabbed Virgil’s hand, expecting him to drop it immediately. Instead he stepped closer and squeezed.

“You boys find everything okay?” A cashier asked as they left.

“Yep, thanks!” Virgil spoke in a sickly sweet falsetto. “Goodbye!”

“What was that voice?” Roman asked as soon as the door shut behind them.

“That was my gay voice.”

“What the everloving fuck does that mean?”

Virgil shrugged. “People expect us gays to be a certain way. You get more sympathy if you go along with their expectations.”

“I see.”

“Aside from that, how do you feel?”

Roman thought for a moment.

“Like I want to do that again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is REALLY dialogue heavy but it finally got written, so im just glad it's here


	4. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When do we get to eat?”
> 
> Virgil scanned the room for a clock. “Fifteen minutes,” he said.
> 
> “Is there, like, etiquette that I should know?” 
> 
> “Don’t jump the line. Don’t take more than your fair share.” Virgil shrugged. “Don’t be a shithead.” 
> 
> Roman grinned. “Can’t promise anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my hatred for organized religion really jumped out in the beginning sorry yall

The nearest soup kitchen was nearly a mile away. Roman could hardly keep up with Virgil as he sped along, dodging through alleys and between tourists traps. By the time they stood beneath the looming arches, Roman’s feet hurt and his lungs burned. Virgil threw open the door, waving Roman inside. 

“Normally we’d go in the back,” Virgil began, “but since you’ve never been here I figured I’d show you the chapel.” He swung his arms out in a lazy gesture to the room around him.

Roman was dumbstruck. The religious symbols meant nothing to him, but the stained glass windows were intricate and the statues were detailed and it felt wrong because it seemed so expensive yet Virgil had told him the food was bad. They could spend seemingly millions on decoration, but couldn’t spare enough to serve decent meals? Roman thought Christianity was supposed to be about loving others, not who had the best painting of a dead guy.

“It’s… so much.” Roman ran a hand down the side of a velvet-covered pew.

“Yeah.” Virgil fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket as he spoke. “It’s a lot. You don’t get used to it, either.”

Roman looked around, at the statues of a dying Jesus and the massive crosses and the gigantic windows. “Can we go to the kitchen now?” Virgil nodded and stepped off.

He led Roman through winding staircases and thin hallways until, at long last, they stopped before the kitchen. A crowd of people milled around the waiting area, all talking as loudly as possible. And all smelling like death.

Roman figured he probably didn’t smell much better, but this many people with limited access to showers in such close proximity wasn’t a pleasant scent. Instead of complaining, he turned to Virgil and asked, “When do we get to eat?”

Virgil scanned the room for a clock. “Fifteen minutes,” he said.

“Is there, like, etiquette that I should know?” 

“Don’t jump the line. Don’t take more than your fair share.” Virgil shrugged. “Don’t be a shithead.” 

Roman grinned. “Can’t promise anything.” He turned away, taking in the crowd.

There was more variation than he thought. There were plenty of people that looked like he expected, with layers upon layers of unwashed clothing, but just as many seemed like any upper-middle-class suburban family. There was a tall man in a crisp suit, a woman in heels, someone his age in a college sweatshirt. A little girl clung to her mother’s pleated skirt. A pair of highschoolers held hands on the edge of a crowded couch. And Roman couldn’t help but wonder where he fit into the strange puzzle.

As if he could hear Roman’s thoughts, Virgil began to speak again. “They feed anyone. Doesn’t matter if you walked miles for your only meal today or you drove five blocks because you didn’t feel like making dinner. They’ve got enough to sustain a small army.” Roman smiled. They lapsed into half-hearted conversation for a few minutes before Virgil went quiet. It seemed to Roman that he shrunk inches within moments. He crossed his arms, leaned against the wall behind him.

“V?” Roman asked. “Are you okay?” He placed a hand on the other boy’s shoulder, which he shrugged off.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just…” Virgil sucked in a deep breath, “A lot of people.” He scratched at the back of his neck.

“Do you want to go outside?”

“Nah, dinner’s in a few minutes. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Roman raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “We can be late.”

“Yeah.” Virgil nodded far too enthusiastically, concerning Roman more. “As long as we can get a table by ourselves.”

Before Roman could protest, a man emerged from the doors opposite where they’d entered. The room fell silent, and Virgil breathed a sigh of relief.

“Come on in,” the man shouted. “Spaghetti and meatballs tonight.” Roman grinned, but Virgil groaned beside him.

“Their spaghetti is the worst,” he whispered. “It’s food, but it’s the worst meal they have here.” They fell into the chattering line as Virgil complained. “The sauce is essentially ketchup and the noodles look like worms. The meatballs are always cold.”

“I think I can choke it down.” Roman’s stomach had been growling for hours. 

When they finally reached the front of the line, Virgil’s face lit up. “Gina!” He gave a half-grin to the girl who scooped his worm-spaghetti out of the tray.

“Virge! How goes it?” She smiled back as she dumped a ladle of sauce onto the plate.

“I’ve adopted,” he said, glancing at Roman.

“Nice to meet you, my dude. I’m Gina.”

“Roman.” He stuck out his hand, but she waved gloved fingers at him instead.

“Sorry. Sanitation.” Roman nodded.

“Come sit with us if you get the time,” Virgil said, and moved along. Roman followed, collecting as much food as he could along the line. He scanned the room full of different sized tables. Virgil spotted one with two chairs in the back of the room and darted towards it, Roman at his heels.

They sat and dug in. Virgil picked at the spaghetti, eating small bites, while Roman shovelled forkful upon forkful into his mouth. It tasted exactly like Virgil had described it, but he didn’t care. He was starving.

“Ro. Calm down,” Virgil scolded. “It’s not like it’s been months since you’ve had shitty pasta.”

“Feels like it,” Roman said around a mouthful of meatballs. Virgil rolled his eyes.

“It still isn’t mom’s homemade spaghetti or anything.” Roman stopped chewing to look up at him. Virgil dropped his fork, held out his hands. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean to like, glorify your parents or anything. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” He swallowed. “My mom made really good spaghetti. I forgot how great her cooking was.” And he was crying again, in the middle of a soup kitchen.

“Oh, Ro, I’m so sorry.” Virgil’s hand shot across the table and grabbed his arm. The touch brought Roman back. He scrubbed at his eyes and picked up his fork.

“You’re fine.” He shot Virgil a watery grin. “I’m okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They ate and left quickly, waving goodbye to Gina as she served seconds. They stepped outside and Roman was instantly freezing. He zipped up his stolen hoodie, but still shivered against the cold.

“It’s a bit nippy,” Roman said as he flipped up his hood.

“You’re just cold-blooded.” But Virgil pressed closer to him anyway, slipping his arm around Roman’s waist.

“It’s only October.” He threw one arm around Virgil’s shoulder and shoved the other in his pocket. “How are we going to do this during winter?” 

“We bundle up and stay close.”

And so they did stay close, for the whole walk home and all through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the month-long radio silence lmao. school got hard and i had tech week for a show


End file.
